


House Remix

by inlovewithnight



Series: Guest Vocals By [2]
Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-12
Updated: 2009-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-18 05:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight





	House Remix

"You're such a douche," Pete says, smacking the top of Gabe's head. "Seriously. You are the master douche of douche mountain."

"It's not my fault you suck." Gabe tries to slouch down lower and avoid Pete's follow-up strike. "Ow. Quit hitting me. This is excessive violence."

"Says the guy who's playing Call Of Duty," Ashlee says, picking Bronx up off the floor. "Pete, let's try not to have 'douche' be in his first five words, huh?"

"You just said it, too."

"The first five are going to be mama, dada, Twitter, douche, and _dude_." Ashlee sighs and settles the baby on her hip. "I'm so proud."

"Maybe we can get 'dumbass' to crack the list. Like, Gabe, _dumbass_ , stop shooting _me_." Pete groans and drops his controller onto the couch. "Dude!"

Gabe gestures wildly, tilting his head back to look up at Pete, sitting on the couch behind him. "It's not my fault I'm better at this than you are!"

"Whatever. You're probably cheating." Pete's lower lip creeps out in a distinct pout. "Jerk."

"Okay, time-out, cowboys." Ashlee shakes her head and leans over Gabe to kiss Pete on the forehead. "Go put your kid to bed."

Pete blinks up at her, reaching for Bronx. "Is it my turn?"

"Yep. Go on. I'll entertain Gabe." Ashlee flops down on the couch as Pete stands up, her legs sprawling down the length of the couch just behind Gabe's head. He tilts his head back again, smiling upside-down at her. She reaches out and rumples his hair. "Hey."

"Hi." He reaches for his Red Bull and takes a sip, glancing at the screen out of the corner of his eye. "You want to play?"

"Maybe later."

"We could three-way." Ashlee smirks at him, and he flushes, because he actually didn't think that double entendre through, for once. He covers it with his best leer. "Oh yeah, baby."

"First-person shooters aren't my thing. I like racing games, though." She combs her fingers through his hair again, frowning a little and tugging at a tangle. "You need a trim."

"Yeah, yeah." He takes another drink and closes his eyes, leaning back against the couch. "When I go back to the real world."

"This isn't the real world?"

"Nah. This is never-never land."

"I wish." He opens his eyes just enough to peer up at her and see the slightly crooked smile on her face. "I definitely wish."

Gabe shifts around to lean sideways against the couch. Ashlee's wearing sweats and a prototype Clan t-shirt, her hair pulled back off her face with a headband. She looks gorgeous. And if he says anything like that he's going to make her more self-conscious than he already did.

"I'll be getting out of your hair pretty soon," he says instead, tapping out a vague riff against her knee.

"Stay as long as you want." That's a more genuine smile. "We like having company."

Their house is good for company, open and roomy and full of random crap. From the first time Gabe stepped into the place, he couldn't shake the feeling that it probably very much resembles the inside of Pete's head.

"Is putting the kid to bed a big production?" he asks, looking past her down the hall.

"Usually not too bad. Pete tells him stories. He gets a little carried away sometimes." She smiles. "Shocking, I know."

"I'm totally blown away, let me tell you." Gabe crawls over to the console and turns it off, then the TV. He's not feeling it anymore. "I think I'll go crash. Read for a while, maybe. Give you guys some couple time."

She frowns slightly, picking at the couch cushion. "Why? If we wanted to get rid of you, we'd just pretend we were going to bed." He blinks, and she smirks again. "Yeah, we're masters of subtlety that way."

"Okay." He shrugs, feeling oddly exposed, like he's trying too hard, with no idea why. "Whatever you want."

"Besides, I feel like I should hang out with the guy who fools around with my husband."

And right, that's why, the elephant hiding out in the corner of the room, the icy chill under his skin. "Wow. Huh. Guess I kinda thought we...weren't gonna talk about that."

She tilts her head. "That wouldn't be healthy at all, now, would it?"

"It would be more comfortable, though. For me."

She blinks and then laughs, bright and clear. "Oh. Gabe. You think I'm going to torture you, or something?" The look on his face must say more than he wants it to, because she laughs again, shaking her head and hiding her face with her hands. "God, you guys. Badass rock stars but you all _worry_ so much."

"Who's worrying?" Pete wanders back into the room, pausing at the end of the couch and bouncing on his toes. "Why are we worrying?"

"Gabe's afraid I'm going to go all unglued on him for putting his hands on my man." She raises an eyebrow at both of them. "But since I'm not drinking gin and there are no cameras present, he's fresh out of luck."

"Ash," Pete says reprovingly, but she just laughs and waves her hands in the air, and Gabe's reminded again why he only stays friends with people who can have a fucking sense of humor.

Pete rolls his eyes and addresses Gabe next. "And dude, I told you she was cool. Why would I lie about that? I'm not this huge fan of mind games."

"Except on the Internet," Gabe points out, because seriously, he's not going to let Pete get away with quite _that_ much of a bullshit lie.

"That's different," Pete says breezily. "That's PR."

"You are both so adorable I could die." Gabe looks at Ashlee again, vaguely offended, but the retort he has all lined up dies when he sees that the smile on her face now is different. He knows that smile. He is a master of that smile. It's...very close to the leer he had been working before, actually. "I love it."

"Always happy to serve, Kitkat." Pete sits on the arm of the couch and then slides down onto the cushions on his back, kicking his feet up in the air. "Anytime."

She reaches down and combs her fingers through Pete's hair. "Gabe suggested a three-way, baby."

Gabe chokes.

"Really?" Pete blinks up at her, then turns his head to stare at Gabe. "Seriously?"

" _Video game_ ," Gabe manages. "I suggested..."

"I think it's an awesome idea," Ashlee overrides smoothly. "Don't you?"

"I think you're pretty much the best wife ever," Pete says, reaching up for her hands. "I'm in if Gabe is."

And then they're both _looking_ at him. That exposed feeling comes back in spades.

But he's Gabe Saporta. Never turn down a dare, never say die, live life to the fullest, if-the-world-is-ending-I'm-throwing-the-party Saporta. Turning this down would go against everything he stands for.

Not to mention being unbelievably stupid, because even in _his_ life, chances like this didn't come around every day.

"I didn't shower this morning," he says, crawling back to kneel beside the couch again. "Is that going to be like a huge problem?"

Ashlee cradles his face in her hands and kisses him. As answers go, that works.  
**  
Threesomes don't come with charts or a playbook, though Gabe has seriously considered designing one and posting it to his blog as a public service. Still, there's something to be said for spontaneity and just going with it.

In this case, that means that after a few minutes of trading kisses and whispers back and forth between the three of them, Pete swings his legs around so he's sitting properly on the couch, then pulls Ashlee into his lap. He winds his arms with hers, loosely linking their elbows, holding her in place gently as Gabe kneels in front of them and guides Ashlee's knees apart.

She bites her lower lip and raises her hips off Pete's lap so Gabe can tug her sweatpants and underwear down, arching up with a dancer's fine control. Pete makes a small sound as she settles down against him again, and Gabe smirks at him over her shoulder. "Think about kittens or something, dude. Don't want you to close things down early."

"Fuck you," Pete says, without a trace of heat, and Gabe just laughs, sliding his hands up to Ashlee's hips and leaning in to breathe against the carefully manicured hair at the apex of her thighs.

Ashlee's very vocal, which is fucking awesome; he can tell exactly what she likes best from the words and breathless little noises she makes as he eats her out. She curses like a sailor, too, which is _hot_ , and he's willing to bet money that she would be tugging at his hair and physically moving him exactly where she wants him if Pete wasn't holding back her hands.

Gabe rubs slow circles on her hips with his thumbs and slides his tongue inside her, closing his eyes and just concentrating on the taste and the sounds she makes, the way she bucks up off Pete's lap until he tightens his hold and keeps her still, the sour-sweet smell of her and the way all of that put together is making his dick harder and harder.

"Gabe," she says, her voice low and hot and cutting off suddenly. He glances up through his eyelashes, watching as Pete kisses her, her head turned far to the right, baring her throat. They're impossibly gorgeous together, like something from another planet, and Gabe closes his eyes again and doubles his efforts, flicking his tongue against her again and again until she shudders and he feels her muscles shudder in the slow rhythm of getting there.

He pulls away slowly, sitting back on his heels and licking his lips, watching as she leans back against Pete, her eyes closed. She's breathing hard, her breasts heaving under the thin material of her t-shirt. "Dude," Gabe says, his voice thick. "Your wife is really hot."

"You know, I never noticed that?" Ashlee wiggles on his lap and Pete groans, closing his eyes for a moment. "Thanks for pointing it out."

"There's something else you're not noticing, babe." Ashlee tugs her arms free and slides off Pete's lap, sprawling out on the couch and grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. "I think Gabe needs some attention."

"Nah, I think he's okay. You're good, right?" Gabe reaches up, grabbing Pete's hand and yanking him down off the couch onto the floor. Pete laughs, sliding his hand down to rub Gabe's cock through his pants. "Or not."

Gabe lies back, spreading his legs wide so Pete can settle between them. Ashlee makes a noise of protest as Pete blocks her view, but Gabe can't quite manage to care, because Pete's pushing Gabe's pants down off his hips and wrapping his hand around Gabe properly. He gives a firm, slow stroke and Gabe's brain cells take a short vacation to someplace really awesome, possibly tropical.

"You're in the way, Peter," he hears Ashlee say, and Pete laughs low and smug. Gabe is vaguely aware of Pete moving, and then a hand is sliding along his torso, pushing his t-shirt up his chest. The hand moves down again, nails raking lightly against his skin, and yeah, those are definitely _nails_ , Ashlee's, and it stings just right. He thrusts up into Pete's hand and Ashlee laughs a little, tracing her fingers around the sensitive skin at the base of Gabe's cock.

"God, look how hard he is, babe," she whispers, and Gabe opens his eyes again to watch them kiss. Pete kisses Ashlee like he wants to dive forward into her mouth, like he's starving. Ashlee licks at his lips, teases, whispers and laughs, then pulls away and leans down to lick along the line of Gabe's hips. Her hair sweeps over his skin and it tickles, but that sensation is quickly washed away by the competition between nerve endings from her tongue and Pete's hand.

She uses her teeth next, just lightly but enough to make his hips jerk up hard. "Fuck," he says, thumping his head back against the floor. "Fuck, yes, just..."

Pete's hand tightens just a little, and moves faster. Ashlee swirls her tongue over a patch of skin just below his navel, then nips him again, and he's coming before he can manage another word, or even a breath.

Gabe keeps his eyes closed for a moment, just letting his brain swirl around behind his eyelids. He feels the heat of Ashlee and Pete's bodies shifting, moving around, and doesn't bother trying to map it until two fingertips rub over his lower lip. He opens his mouth obediently and the fingers slide inside, not too deep, just enough to prompt him to suck on them. No fingernails; Pete, then. He flicks his tongue lazily and sucks harder.

"Damn, Gabe," Pete says softly, and then his fingers are gone and he's kissing Gabe, deep and warm. Gabe reaches up and curves one hand around the back of Pete's neck, holding him there, while his other hand moves down to palm Pete's dick.

"Lie down," Ashlee says, and Pete slowly draws away. Gabe lets him go, sitting up as Ashlee pulls at Pete's pants from the ankles and yanks them all the way down.

Pete laughs, covering his face with his hands. "Dignity, always dignity."

"Shh," she scolds, pulling at his boxers next. "Gabe, help me out here."

Gabe means to, he really does, but first he has to kiss her. That goes on for a little, because Ashlee's really nice to kiss, and Gabe is a world-class kissing champion. They don't pause until they hear a low noise from Pete and both look over to see that he's jerking off.

"Oh, that's not going to happen," Ashlee says, licking her lips. "Not at all. Gabe. Go get his hands."

No point arguing with a good idea. Gabe moves around to kneel above Pete, grinning down at him as he guides Pete's hands up to either side of his head and pin them to the floor.

"Kinky, Saporta," Pete says. Gabe kisses him, rubbing his thumbs along Pete's wrists and fucking his mouth slowly with his tongue.

"Not even close to kinky," Gabe mutters, then bites Pete's lip lightly. "Doesn't count as kinky until you break out the whips and chains."

"Maybe later, if--" Whatever Pete's about to say, it cuts off in a desperate noise as Ashlee takes him deep in her mouth. Gabe looks down the length of Pete's body and watches, slightly hypnotized by the slide of her lips around Pete's cock. He admires good technique. And good aesthetics. This definitely qualifies as both.

Pete is making noises that are probably illegal in several states, twisting under Gabe's hands and thrusting up into Ashlee's mouth. Gabe kisses him again, then moves his mouth to Pete's neck, keeping him distracted. He sucks the salt from Pete's skin, hard enough that he's probably going to leave a mark, hard enough that Pete calls him a fucker. Gabe pulls away and says "Next time," with a dirty wink, then turns his attention to the other side of Pete's throat. Matching hickeys are double the class.

Pete arches up and comes with a desperate groan, and Gabe lets go of his wrists, crawling down to kiss Ashlee as she pulls back. They share the taste for a moment and then Ashlee leans her forehead against his, breathing hard.

"Hey," Pete mumbles, and Gabe glances sideways at him. Pete's lying there with a huge, dazed, stupid grin on his face, and it's possibly the best thing Gabe's ever seen.

"Hey," he replies, and Ashlee giggles. "What?"

"You two are just funny." She tucks her legs up under herself and tugs her headband off, running her fingers quickly through her hair. "And awesomely hot."

"Well, thanks for throwing that part in, Kitkat." Pete sits up and stretches, admiring the red marks on his wrists. "I need a fucking Fresca or something."

"I don't even know what to do with you," Gabe says, laughing despite himself and getting to his feet. "Fresca, seriously?"

"Me too, please," Ashlee says sweetly, and Gabe staggers to the kitchen. He gets one for himself as well.

When he comes back to the living room, Pete and Ashlee are leaning into each other, nuzzling and talking softly. Gabe hesitates, hanging back and shuffling the cans between his hands. Ashlee glances up and smiles again.

"You don't get to start worrying _now_ , either. Come on."

"Come on what?" Gabe asks, and Pete snorts. "I mean, where?"

"Bedroom." Ashlee gets to her feet slowly, gracefully, and Pete clambers up as well. "Thank God for king-sized beds. You look like you kick."

"He does," Pete says solemnly. Gabe flips him off.

"I'm in the guest room," he says, not sure if it's a reminder or a test until Ashlee rolls her eyes.

"Not tonight, you're not. Duh. Why are all of your friends so clueless, Pete?"

Pete grabs Gabe's hand and hauls him off down the hall, saying something about how it's because he only chooses them for their bodies. Gabe isn't really listening. He's being swept along for the ride.  



End file.
